Surface
by FishwichForMyLove
Summary: Alfred is sure he saw something in the pond, and nothing Gilbert says can convince him otherwise. But even if he is right, maybe it's in his best interest to be wrong. Human AU, based on a tumblr request for "mermaid".


**A/N: I asked for one word prompts on tumblr, and rainbowsandsunties asked for "mermaid". And as usual, I can't follow a prompt in any reasonable way.**

 **Warnings: flippant discussion of mental health; profanity, potentially creepy; unsatisfying ending?; character...death?**

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"So let me get this straight. You want me to sit out here, freezing my buns off, in the fucking dark, to stare at some shitty little pond because you're convinced you maybe saw something once?"

Alfred crossed his arms, shrugging his shoulders so that the collar of his jacket would cover his ears. It was cold, and the bench he was sitting on was making his legs ache, but he wouldn't shiver and let Gilbert have the satisfaction. He wasn't going to let him talk him out of this, no matter what.

"Not something, Gil. A—"

"No, don't say it. It's so dumb I'll have to kick your ass." Gilbert sat on the frigid stone bench and hunched down, knocking shoulders with Alfred and offering a sip out of his paper coffee cup.

Alfred shook his head. "And it's not a maybe. It's real. I know it."

"And I know you're out of your fucking mind," Gilbert said with a laugh, tossing his head back far enough that his sweatshirt hood fell down to his neck. He chugged what was left of the coffee and crumpled the cup.

"Don't, it's not funny. I'm being serious."

"You've been watching too much of that alien shit again, bud."

"It's not an alien, it's—"

"A mermaid, yeah I know. Great, now I have to kick my own ass." Gilbert stood and held the crumpled cup over his head, going on tiptoe a few times as he eyeballed the nearest trash can."Just sit here, okay? I swear, it should come up soon."

"What, like for air? I thought they could breathe under water." He shot the cup in an exaggerated arc, fist pumping to himself when it landed perfectly in the trash can. "And okay, so, let's say this thing does exist and it does live here. Where does it go? What does it eat? Duck shit? I mean, you can't even fish in this pond, and it's too shallow for boats. Wouldn't somebody have seen it before? You know what, don't answer that. I'm not even going to pretend like there's something legit to discuss here."

Alfred sighed, his stomach tightening as he stared out over the water. "Gil, I don't know how to explain it. I just know what I saw."

Gilbert looked back at him and shook his head. He wandered toward the edge of the pond, the grass dead and gone, leaving behind slimy clods of mud and thin, lacy patches of ice at the water's edge. Alfred watched as he bent to pick something up, wiping it between his hands brusquely. He cranked his arm back like he was going to toss something again, and Alfred realized it was a stone. Leaping up from the bench and half-slipping in the muck, he grabbed Gilbert's arm and confiscated the stone. Gilbert whined, but stopped when he saw Alfred's face. Alfred wasn't sure what he was feeling, but his face felt hot all of a sudden, and the twisting in his stomach deepened.

"Don't," Alfred said quietly, the command coming out half a growl. He ignored the strange urge to shove Gilbert away from the water's edge and turned around, pitching the stone back towards the trees. When he turned around again, Gilbert was looking at him with a guarded expression, hands shoved in pockets as he took several steps back.

"So you're really not doing this just to mess with me, right?" Gilbert gave Alfred a wide berth as he returned to the bench.

Alfred looked out over the water again, squinting to find any tiny disturbance on the dark glassy surface. "No."

"Okay. So tell me again."

"I was out walking, maybe around one—"

"In the middle of the night?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Are you okay? Not to get all sappy, dude, but that's fucking weird."

Alfred whirled around, the foreign aggression bubbling up again unexpectedly. "I just needed to clear my head, okay?"

Gilbert leaned back on the bench, looking Alfred up and down with wide eyes. Forcing himself to take a deep, stinging breath, Alfred swallowed down the anger and paced, trying to rework the events in his head.

"So I was walking around the park and I was going to go back home, but I kept hearing these weird noises from down here by the pond. Like people singing. And it was like I just had to come closer to it, to find out what it was."

"Like it was pulling you in?"

"I guess. Yeah. Exactly like that." Alfred felt an aching tingle start up in his chest and his feet moved of their own accord, back to the spot he had stood the night before. "I keep walking until I'm standing right here, and when I look out over the pond, there's this blurry spot in the middle. Like the moonlight is bouncing off of something kinda shimmery and different than the water."

"Romantic," Gilbert said with a snort.

Alfred shot Gilbert a warning look, and the grin on his friend's face melted away. "Stop."

"Sorry."

Turning to the pond again, Alfred cleared his throat. He trained his eyes on the exact spot the water had parted. "And I keep looking and I realize it's like scales, like a big tail of something dragging down under the water, and then there's fins or flukes, whatever those are called. Kinda green and blue, but rusty looking, like old copper. It disappears but there are all these massive ripples spreading out all over the pond, and the singing sound keeps getting louder."

Alfred was so lost in remembering that he didn't register Gilbert at his side right away. He jumped slightly, and turned to Gilbert, but he was staring out over the water, too, stern and searching. Shivering, Alfred continued, voice coming down to above a whisper as if not to disturb whatever waited in the pond.

"And then there's something coming up out of the water and I realize it's a head, like a person's head. It has hair, kinda blonde or white-ish. It looks human, but off. Like the eyes are too big and shiny, like they're reflective or something. Green. And it's— his, I think—skin is pale, almost pearly or something because it's so bright."

"Jesus."

"We just stare at each other. I don't how long. Just this…thing. Mermaid. Merman, thing. I don't know I just saw from the shoulders up, I think, if it has shoulders. Just staring at me. And then I get this urge, like I have to go out there."

"What, in the water?"

"Yeah."

"It was like twenty degrees last night."

"I know, but I just felt like I had to. Like if I did that, I could talk to it and I would understand."

"That's fucking creepy. Don't they like, drown people?"

Alfred turned to Gilbert. "So you believe me?"

"That you're having some sort of psychotic break? Yeah, absolutely. That's there's a fucking mermaid in the pond? No way."

Alfred exhaled with a disappointed grunt, and watched as Gilbert walked back to the edge of the pond. Gilbert squatted and dipped his fingers in the frosty water for a moment, swearing and rubbing them against his jeans when the cold bit too sharply. He looked over his shoulder at Alfred and hitched a thumb toward the center of the water.

"What happened next?"

"My phone went off. Matt, asking where I was." The desire to get Gilbert away from the water rose up again, strange and territorial, and Alfred went to stand at his side. "And the mer-thing made this hissing sound and then disappeared, and that was that. No more ripples, nothing. Just gone."

"And the music?" Gilbert straightened, pulling the knees of his jeans back down into place and hopping a little against the freezing air.

"Gone. For a while."

"What do you mean."

Alfred hesitated and looked away, toeing at the thin film of ice on the pond's edge instead. It crunched and disintegrated under his foot, sending tiny ripples out toward the middle. Alfred wondered if the mermaid could feel them.

"C'mon," Gilbert said, breaking Alfred's train of thought. "I already think you're crazy. Finish the story."

Scratching the back of his head as a rush of prickles ran up his neck and onto his scalp, Alfred exhaled slowly through pursed lips. "A couple of times today, I could have sworn I could hear it again. The music. Just tickling at the back of my brain."

Alfred could feel Gilbert looking at him, but didn't want to look back. He knew how that sounded. He probably wouldn't have believed it either if it was anyone else in this position. Tucking his hands under his armpits, he rocked back and forth, heel to toe, watching as the last of his ripples petered out. He heard Gilbert blow out his lips, making a raspberry sound, then fidget for a few moments. Finally, Gilbert put a hand on Alfred's shoulder, turning him a little to face him.

"Dude, non-confrontationally, but I think you need some help."

"Gil—"

"No, listen. I get it. Things get hard sometimes, and we just, I don't know, find a way to cope. And I'm not saying I blame you, but this all sounds like some elaborate, fucked up dream you had." Gilbert stepped into Alfred so that he was directly in front of him, both hands holding onto the sides of his arms now. The way he was looking at Alfred, his gentle paternal tone, was making hostility boil Alfred's blood.

"It's not real. You'll see. Just come home, sleep on it, and you'll see," Gilbert pleaded, then smiled a smile that was half a wince. "Cuz if you don't, we're going to have to figure out what's wrong with you."

Alfred didn't bother trying to hold the anger back this time. "Fuck you, there's nothing wrong with me," he snarled, shoving Gilbert back.

Gilbert almost lost his footing in the mud, flailing to regain his balance. "No, shit, I don't mean it like that. I want to help you."

"I don't need help." Alfred stalked away, but didn't make it very far. He couldn't leave the pond, but he didn't want to leave the spot either. He stopped, breathing heavy, eyes combing the surface of the pond.

"Al, this isn't normal. And this is me saying it," Gilbert panted, catching up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder again. "I'm not exactly the poster child for sanity."

"That's why I told you. I thought you'd understand."

"Let's just go home."

"No." Alfred shrugged the hand off, and doubled back to the spot he'd seen the mermaid before.

"I'm not staying out here."

"You don't have to."

"I'm not leaving you out here to freeze."

"Call the cops, then. I don't care." Alfred sat resolutely on the ground, the last of the dying grass poking through his jeans and the freezing wet immediately sticking the fabric to his skin. "I know what I saw, and I'm not going home. Look at me. Does it look to you like I'm not serious?"

He glared up at Gilbert, face hot and hard, eyes unblinking. Gilbert's eyes darted back and forth on his face, searching for some sign that Alfred would give up and go home. But that wasn't going to happen, and Alfred maintained the intensity of his staring, tears starting to form at the corner of his eyes from the cold air. Gilbert opened his mouth to say something, a puff of his frosted breath escaping, then stopped and scowled. Alfred was prepared for yelling, but all Gilbert did was sigh as his features changed into an expression of open pity.

"No. It doesn't. And that doesn't make me feel any better. You're really not gonna budge on this?"

Alfred didn't answer, instead turning to the pond, straight-backed and chin jutting high in defiance.

"Okay. Okay. Well, look. I can't watch you do this. If you're not back in thirty minutes exactly, I am calling the cops. Got it?"

Alfred looked up at Gilbert, who was still looking at him sadly, and whispered, "Thank you."

"Thirty minutes, Alfred. Swear to god." Gilbert shook a finger at Alfred, then whipped out his phone, probably to set an alarm.

"I know."

"Okay." Gilbert finished fiddling with his phone, then looked back at Alfred, then the pond, then Alfred again. Again he opened his mouth and thought better of it, shaking his head as he reached down to pat Alfred on the shoulder before walking away.

Alfred listened until the crunch of his shoes on the dead grass and gravel was gone, leaving only the faintest rustle of the trees and the quiet sounds of the pond water lapping against the shore. The cold was creeping up from Alfred's legs now, making his back ache. He allowed himself a few moments of unbridled shivering before he drew his knees up and put his arms around them, hands safely tucked into the opposite sleeves to keep his fingers warm.

He would wait however long it took. Gilbert could call the cops if he wanted, but Alfred knew he wasn't crazy. Something had happened to him, absolutely, but it was still real. The change in him was real, and he would believe in it, even if there was no way to prove it.

Just as he hunkered down to wait it out in frigid misery, the soft, ethereal strains of the mermaid's song began to float up from the water. It was so quiet that Alfred didn't think he was hearing it so much as feeling it. It grew stronger and stranger, no real melody to be untangled, but a series of high, wavering cries. A whale song, almost, but more deliberate, as if there were words, but Alfred couldn't understand them.

Alfred got to his feet and stumbled toward the water. He felt as if an invisible rope was wrapped around his chest, yanking him forward. For a moment, he was terrified and fought against it, but as the song grew stronger and the water at the center of the pond began to ripple, a calm spread over him. It was nostalgic almost, like he was headed toward something he'd been missing dearly even though he'd never had it, whatever it was.

The water broke and a glimmer of green and copper peaked through the waves. Alfred's breath caught as he was pulled forward. Something in him told him he had to be in the water, had to feel it to understand. Not wanting any interruptions this time, he scrambled to get his phone out of his pocket and threw it behind him. Then he was kicking off his shoes and his socks, only vaguely disgusted by the mud and slime between his toes. The song was pulling him forward, demanding he come closer, and Alfred had zero will to fight it. With a sharp inhale he dipped one foot, and then the other into the water. It was so cold it hurt, setting fire to his nerves and almost breaking the spell being cast. But just as soon as Alfred registered the pain and almost slipped away, the water turned warm. It felt like bathwater that had been left to sit for a while, tepid and slow. Alfred could feel the song in his chest, as if it was actually coming from him, and he shuffled forward, wading deeper into the dark water.

He was up to his thighs, then his crotch, then his bellybutton, jeans soaked and sticking heavily to his legs. With each inch he descended, the water would burn his skin with the cold, threatening to knock him away from his goal. But every time, just as he was about to give up, the temperature would change, the feeling of the water would change, until it felt like the most natural place for him to be. He had a sudden sense of going home, of belonging.

The song was so loud it vibrated his chest and made his ears ache, and he stopped where he was, water lapping at his stomach. Alfred gasped as he saw the mottled tail curve over the water, watching with fear and excitement as the glowing paleness of the mermaid's skin skimmed just beneath the surface toward him.

The head broke the surface barely three feet from him, blonde hair plastered to its scalp and dripping water down into its huge, glistening eyes. It's nose was small and slender, its lips a little too thin and wide to be totally human, but surprisingly rosy. Its ears came to slight points and were petite and flat against its head. Even for all it's alien qualities, it was remarkably beautiful, skin glowing with a pearlescent white radiance. Alfred stood, transfixed and heart hammering, as the mermaid rose out of the water even more, exposing mottled shoulders and a flat, smooth chest. He got the impression that the mermaid was in fact male, if sex even existed for mermaids. It didn't matter anyway, since Alfred was far more interested in the soft looking skin and the deadly sweet looking face than whether the mermaid was a boy or a girl or something in between.

He wanted so badly to reach out and touch it, and just as the thrumming song inside him peaked with enough energy that he could lift his arm out of the water, the mermaid reached for him. The arm was thin and strong looking, more mottled bits of what might have been scales decorating down to the delicate wrist. The fingers were slender and longer than a human's, connected by almost invisible thin webs, with long, elegant nails. They looked sharp, but the touch was gentle as the hand enclosed around Alfred's wrist beneath the water. Something inside Alfred balked at the feel of the skin, almost like that of the dolphin Alfred had touched on a school field trip once. Something else calmed him and welcomed the bizarre touch, and he let his arm be pulled at.

The song was bursting through Alfred's body, words flying at him too fast to catch. The prevailing thought that pushed through the noise as Alfred stared deep into the giant, glassy eyes was, "Come." It repeated over and over like a mantra, an affirmation of what Alfred was feeling throughout his entire body, an invitation to belong.

"I want to," he said, his own voice sounding far away and syrupy through the wall of song.

The mermaid smiled. It's mouth stretched wide over dozens of needle-like pearly teeth, and the tiny part of Alfred's brain still fighting to get free recoiled. But Alfred smiled back, feeling hot and dizzy. Whatever was pumping through his veins now was bubbly and ecstatic, like the first time he'd kissed a girl, or when he'd stolen some old Playboys and kept them hidden in his closet. It felt secret and naughty and thrilling, a flush of love or lust or both, something sweet and terrifying that he was dying to sink into.

The mermaid tugged on his arm, green eyes glowing brighter and brighter. Alfred's feet moved deeper, and he briefly wondered how much farther the bottom of the pond could be. There was no way the center was any deeper than he was tall, but he couldn't see down into the water far enough to even make out of the rest of the mermaid's body. World narrowing to the light of the mermaid's eyes and the feeling of his skin against Alfred's, he waded forward. The water stung at his chest, his shoulders, his neck.

Deeper and deeper he sank beneath the surface until he felt warm and heavy and right. Emerald pinpoints swam in front of his eyes as the sound of singing was replaced by a cushion of water. Heart pounding, flushed and drunk, Alfred followed the mermaid.

Deeper and deeper and deeper.

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 **A/N: There may be more to this someday, but I wouldn't necessarily bank on it. I kinda like it as a standalone, but we'll see.**


End file.
